Hidden Agenda
by Ree923
Summary: Marie Watson is a paranormal romance writer, newly moved from the US to the UK. As she settles into her rented gatehouse, she slowly gets becomes reacquainted with her cousin, Dr. John Watson. But someone has had his eye on her from a distance, and wants to silence her for good. Fortunately, she has an unlikely fan in Mycroft Holmes
1. Chapter 1

"Are you settled in yet, Marie?" John asked, "It's not too far from the main house if you need anything."

Moving to London was something I had always wanted to do. My books were somewhat popular, and I didn't have anything keeping me in Chicago. Besides, paranormal romance novels could be written anywhere, so why not live somewhere steeped in haunted castles and ancient burial grounds?

"I think it's perfect, John," I reassured my cousin, as I put my cell phone on speaker, "everything I was wanting. It's nice having a fully furnished house to rent, especially when it's clear the owners have such respect for the history involved."

My house was actually a gatehouse for a larger manor, but the couple who owned the property had decided to rent out the smaller home. I had never met them, but John knew them and had vouched for me when I explained to him how I'd like to rent a house for awhile until I found a permanent place of my own.

Although, this house was already growing on me, with its small library overlooking a nearby river. In the dim light of dusk, I could almost make out the white gazebo on one side of a charming bridge. The other side had a path leading up to the back door. John's voice brought me out of my musings.

"I understand that you wanted your own place, but Rosie and I would have loved to have you stay with us."

My cousin John Watson had been inviting me to visit for years, but I'd been busy trying to prove I could support myself as a writer. I didn't want to visit London as a tourist, I wanted to live there as a successful author. And after my latest book was optioned for movie rights, I finally felt worthy of renting a home of my own, in a small area north of London that was near enough to the city for visits, but far enough to see the stars off my small balcony. Tonight, there were clouds, but I didn't think rain was in the forecast.

"Oh I know, but eventually I would have wanted to look for something of my own, and I don't think I would have found anything close to as nice as this house. Are you sure the rent isn't too low?"

"The family isn't hurting for money, Ree," he laughed, using my childhood nickname. "When they heard my favorite cousin was moving from the States, they insisted you at least look at the gatehouse. Violet Holmes is a force to be reckoned with once she has an idea in her head. You'll like her. Her husband isn't as intense, but still very entertaining." A voice in the background cut through our chat. Something about a seven.

"You do realize I'm not at your beck and call, Sherlock," John snapped. A pause, then a sigh. "Sorry, Ree. The child calls. I'll have to see who can watch Rosie."

"Well, if your friend can wait, I can be by in less than an hour. Unless you'd like to drop her off here? I do have a nursery set up here, though I'm not sure why."

"Oh, I'd forgotten we'd stayed there a few months ago. We were having our place repainted and Violet insisted a hotel was out of the question. But it's a bit late for you after spending your day moving into a new home."

"Nonsense, I'll be up for hours yet, and I don't have anything planned for tomorrow. Bring my baby cousin over for a girls' night."

"Well, if you're certain it isn't an imposition," he said just as his friend loudly was telling him that I'd already agreed and why was he dawdling on the phone.

Another voice, female and amused, told him to be patient.

"Sherlock seems a bit intense," I giggled. "He's right though, stop dawdling and bring me my little cousin."

John laughed. "We have to go, but our friend Molly is here visiting so she'll bring Rosie over, if that's okay? I had wanted to properly introduce you tomorrow at your party. She would have watched Rosie, but she'll probably be doing the autopsy later."

"Tell Molly I'll be watching for her, and I still don't think I need a welcome party ...but I am happy that I'm having one." A loud mumbling was heard. I laughed. "Sounds like someone thinks we're still dawdling. I'll let you go and we can catch up in the morning when you come for your daughter."

Hanging up, I went upstairs to make sure the nursery was ready for a guest. Everything was immaculate, but I pulled out an extra blanket just in case Rosie needed it later. I never thought I'd live in a house with a nursery, but it did make it easier for John and Rosie to visit.

Satisfied that the room was in good order, I glanced out of the large bay window and frowned. The wind had been getting louder, and I hadn't noticed. I wondered if I should go to my cousin's house, but Molly was probably already on her way. I put on the tea kettle thinking that Molly might need some if the rain hit before she and Rosie arrived.

Smiling to myself, I wondered about John's life since he'd been involved with the legendary Sherlock Holmes. Most in America were only slightly aware of him, but in my line of work, I tended to follow the careers of crime experts. Sherlock Holmes was fascinating to me. I had toyed with the idea of writing him into my next novel somehow, but doubted he'd be flattered. That didn't mean I wouldn't study him. I turned off the kettle, and pulled down two mugs.

A knock at the door startled me, it was too soon to be Molly so I cautiously glanced out the front window. A dark haired woman was frantically texting and looking up at the darkening sky. I opened the door just as the downpour started, and a large thunderclap shook the ground. The woman screamed and I slammed the door.

Cursing under my breath, I yanked the door open and motioned for the drenched woman to come inside. She looked like she was uncomfortable being inside, and I didn't see a car outside. Only a day in my new home, and I had a little mystery to solve.

"Are you lost? I'm not sure how helpful I can be, I just moved in."

The woman smirked as she wiped rain from her face. "I'm not lost, I am here to determine your ability to watch Rosie Watson." At my blank stare, she tilted her head to stare back at me. "You look like Dr. Watson, but there's something extra there. You seem more interesting." I continued to stare at her. "My employer sent me over to spy on you. But he's being ridiculous, and I'm not standing out in the rain looking through windows like a stalker."

"Your...employer?" I was wondering if there was an asylum missing an inmate.

Another knock, this time from inside the garage, and we both jumped. Rushing over, I opened the door to see a smiling woman holding a sleeping Rosie Watson. The woman walked inside, putting a large diaper bag down on the kitchen table.

"You must be Marie, I'm Molly Hooper. Oh you're making tea. The winds just came out of nowhere, didn't it? It's lucky we could come in through the garage and not get soaked." She then realized we weren't alone and glanced at my other guest. "Hello Anthea, is Mycroft here as well?"

"You know each other?" I asked, and Anthea shrugged. I tried again. "Who is Mycroft? And why did he send you to spy on me? Why is he interested in Rosie? And why wouldn't I be capable of watching my cousin?"

Molly sighed, hands on hips. "Really, Anthea. Mycroft promised he would back off the stalking." She turned to me, shaking my hand as she shifted Rosie to her other hip. "Sherlock's brother Mycroft is a bit overprotective of us all, even if he pretends otherwise. We," she paused, "well, we've had a rough year. I'm sure John must have told you."

"Some. It's a bit hard to believe it all, but John's never been one to exaggerate." I took Rosie from Molly, kissing my cousin's head. "I'm not sure why Sherlock's brother would even know Rosie was coming out tonight." Anthea looked vaguely guilty.

"Please tell me you aren't still bugging John's house," Molly said, exasperated. Anthea hid a smile, "I've never bugged Dr. Watson's home."

"He really has people monitored? How powerful is this man?" A sudden thought hit me. "This house isn't monitored, is it?"

"Not on the inside, no." Anthea took off her coat, and I hung it up in a nearby closet. "Since this is his parents property, he does have the grounds watched. But I'm sure Dr. Watson mentioned that to you before you moved in, it was one of the stipulations of being allowed the rental."

"Well yes, he said there was a private security guard, but I wasn't thinking I'd have someone watching me. And how is it I'm safe enough to live near Mycroft's parents, but he wasn't sure I could be trusted with my own cousin?"

Anthea looked amused. "Caught on to that, did you?" She leaned in and whispered. "He's actually a fan of your books, and was hoping to learn more about you without actually coming by himself. But the old man can fess up and come by on his own. I'm not his puppet."

A loud boom of thunder shook the house, and Anthea jumped again. Molly rubbed her shoulders lightly. "come on now, Thea. It's just rain."

"I'm not afraid of rain," Anthea said roughly, but she looked nervous. "I should be getting back." Lightning lit up the sky, shadows racing across the dimly lit room.

"I don't think even you could go back tonight. The roads leading back into the city are flooded. I've already told Sherlock I may not get back until tomorrow. Maybe we can stay with the Holmes tonight. They certainly have the room."

"Don't be silly," I found myself saying. "I have three guest rooms upstairs. Pick one out and you," I said, turning to Anthea, "I'm sure we can find you something dry to change into. I'll get some snacks together and we'll get to know each other better." And I'd find out more about Mycroft Holmes, I thought to myself.

"You mean like a sleepover?" Anthea asked, taking a deep breath.

"A sleepover," Molly smiled. "That sounds lovely. The case the boys are on doesn't involve any dead bodies, so I'm most likely not going to be needed." We looked at Anthea who was watching the sudden storm with something like fear. She yelped when Molly tapped her shoulder. "Anthea, let's go up and get you into some dry clothes while Marie puts Rosie down for the night." I left them to sort out their plans, and took Rosie up to the nursery, next to my room. Settling her into the crib, I brushed the hair off of her forehead and bent down to give her a kiss on the forehead.

I quickly changed into a T-shirt and sleep shorts, then went back to the nursery to turn on the baby monitor I'd found earlier that day. I took the other monitor with me so I'd hear if Rosie woke up during the storm.

Coming back downstairs, I made a fire in my new study, and went into the kitchen to slice some meat and cheese, placing it on a small platter. Adding some water crackers, I pulled a chilled bottle of wine from my wine fridge, and got three glasses out. Molly walked in, and grabbed the platter.

"Let me help carry this. The fire is lovely. Anthea is already calming down, she simply hates storms. Funny how she's a dead shot, but a little rain worries her."

Anthea was warming her hands near the fire. Molly and I put out the wine and snacks, and I put the monitor where I could hear Rosie if needed.

We settled in for a long talk, and at some point, I went for another bottle of wine.

When I glanced out at the storm from the kitchen window , I could have sworn I saw a black car in the distance, but when I looked again, it was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

"So how did I not know Sherlock's brother was the same Mycroft who sent me the rental agreement?" I asked, just a bit tipsy. "I mean, how many men could be named Mycroft? John told me he was trapped with Sherlock and 'his git of a brother'. I must be losing my touch for not asking his name."

"To be fair, not many people realize they're brothers, until you watch them hide their disgusting smoking habit from their Mummy," Anthea chuckled. "Like two little boys."

"But the way they bicker, you'd know it right away," Molly said, rolling her eyes. "I don't know who is more childish."

"I'm sure Mycroft wins that one. Always kidnapping Sherlock's friends. I know who has my vote," Anthea sighed, reaching for some grapes I'd brought out.

"Sherlock shoots his wall when he's bored."

"Mycroft starts wars when he's bored."

"He hasn't done that in months," Molly smiled.

"Please tell me you're joking," I said, shocked. As they shrugged, I pondered this new information.

"He also decorated this house himself," Anthea confessed. "He has quite an artistic bent, though he'd never admit it. Completely authentic eighteenth century."

"He likes my baking too, though Sherlock is forever telling him he's exploding out of his suits," Molly said, amused.

"What are they like, really? Besides the quirks." I leaned back, relaxing into a soft leather recliner.

"Brilliant." Molly muttered, almost making it sound like an insult.

"Condescending." Anthea said loudly, thumping her hand on the floor, where she'd decided to sit. She was a bit drunker than I was, but still more coordinated than me. I was trying to sit upright on my chair and failing miserably.

"Amazing." Molly giggled at the face Anthea made at that comment.

"Maddening." Anthea said, trying not to laugh.

"Practically perfect in every way," Molly countered in a sing song voice.

"That's Mary Poppins," Anthea accused, almost spitting out her wine.

"Mycroft has the umbrella," Molly defended herself.

"From everything you've both told me about Mycroft Holmes, it doesn't seem like he'd be a fan of my work," I frowned. "Shouldn't a man like that be reading historical warfare things?" I hiccuped, reaching for the second bottle of the night. We wouldn't be getting drunk with Rosie in the house, but another glass wouldn't hurt. Molly wasn't drinking as much as Anthea, and I was only on my second glass.

"I'll tell you a something kind of thing," Anthea whispered. "I'm a little afraid of storms." Molly and I shared a look and tried not to laugh.

"I would never have guessed," I said solemnly.

"And I'll tell you a secret about Mikey. He thinks you're pretty. That's the real reason he sent me over here. So I could talk him up to you. But he doesn't know I know, you know?"

"Are you drunk?" Molly said, waving her hand in front of her friend.

"No. I'm curious." She turned to me. "You're Dr. John's cousin. Is he really as nice as he acts?" Well, that had come out of nowhere. She obviously was trying to ignore the lightning, and be brave.

But my mind was on what she'd said. I doubted Mycroft Holmes thought anyone was pretty. I nibbled on some cheese lost in thought, wondering what he looked like.

"Of course he's nice," Molly said, interrupting my musings. She turned to me in expectation. I grinned weakly, wondering if Mycroft had kaleidoscope eyes like his brother.

"John's nice," I allowed, deciding not to ask about how Mycroft knew what I looked like. "I haven't seen him in a few years, but he's just as lovely as when we'd spend summers together as kids."

"Tell us a secret about yourself and your cousin, Miss Writer Watson." Anthea waved her hand at me regally. "Something scandalous I can bring back to my stupid employer."

"Um, well. Once, when John and I were ten, we saw a man abusing his puppy, so we snuck out that night and stole the poor thing." I took a gulp of wine. "We ended up telling my dad we found her. He took her to the vet and she was adopted out to a nice family, The jerk who abused her put up posters, and we took them down, and that was that."

Molly smirked at me. "I think there's something more about that story. You look guilty."

I started to deny it, then laughed. "Okay. We may have written a letter to him telling him we knew what a horrible excuse for a human being he was, and how his puppy was happy in her new home. Then, we may have made 100 copies and taped one on each door in a three block radius."

My two new friends laughed with me, so we almost didn't hear the knock at the door. I frowned, who would be knocking on my door during a storm? Had Mycroft sent another spy to my home? I slowly got up as Anthea pulled her gun. I glared at her.

"Put that thing away."

"It could be a burglar," she whispered loudly.

"I know you're all overly polite in the UK, but I'm sure even here, burglars don't knock," I whispered back loudly.

"Listen, they may have a gun, and I'd like to shoot them before they shoot us. We do have a baby upstairs to protect. It could be someone with a grudge."

"Who even knows we're here? I just moved in." I asked, throwing my hands in the air.

"What if it's someone lost in the storm?" Molly went to open the door only to be stopped by Anthea and I shouting "No" at the top of our voice. An answering shout came from outside, and before I knew what was happening, my front door was open, and two men rushed in, guns pointed at us.

"Put your hands above your head," Sherlock Holmes demanded, looking at me.

"Sherlock, that's my cousin," John said, lowering his weapon. "Marie, what's going on here? Where's my daughter?"

"Three grown women are getting to know each other. Your daughter is sleeping upstairs in the nursery. Why the hell do you idiots have your guns out? And one of you is fixing that door."

Sherlock stared at me and I stared back. Molly groaned.

"Please no deductions, we've been drinking. And why are you two even here?"

"Case ended up being a three. No clue why I had thought otherwise." Sherlock lowered his gun to observe me.

"Hmm, mid forties, single, romantic yet sarcastic when out of her element. Shoplifting as a teen, but still does it for fun when bored. Drives too fast for most people, yet gets lost easily. Waiting for a man to save her from her boring existence."

John had gone upstairs to check on his daughter, but had come down just as his friend finished.

"Sherlock, that's enough." He sheepishly gave me a hug. "We just thought we'd get Rosie early since the case was over quickly." He noticed Anthea for the first time. "Should I be concerned that Mycroft's PA is in the same house as my family?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Doctor. We were just getting acquainted. The boss wanted to make sure Marie had everything she needed here before the rains washed out the road. Speaking of which, how did you two get here? I barely made it myself."

"That would be me," a new voice smoothly flowed into the conversation. I glanced over and stared. A man was looking at me with a hint of mischief, yet seemed to be trying hard to be aloof. "Mycroft Holmes. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Watson."

"I'm happy to meet you as well, Mr. Holmes. Anthea tells me you furnished this gatehouse yourself. It's very authentic to the eighteenth century."

"Not many people would know that, Ms. Watson. I thank you for your astute observation."

I held out my hand, and he grasped it, never taking his eyes off of me. His blue eyes weren't as spectacular as Sherlock's, but I was still lost. _This _was the man John had called the Iceman? I felt a rush of heat, and bit my lower lip. I could see something in his eyes as they seemed to study me. I smiled.

"No," Sherlock said, bluntly.

"Excuse me?" I tilted my head to look at the detective. "Why aren't you fixing my door?"

"My family owns this house, I'm not obligated to repair it."

"Well, as I have a signed rental agreement for the next six months, that door is your family's obligation to fix. And since you broke it, it seems logical that you be the Holmes to fix it." He grumbled, but went out to the garage to get tools to fix the lock on my door. Molly followed him, chattering about helping him.

I turned to Mycroft. "The girls and I are going to bed now, we thank you for bringing Rosie's father to pick her up. Maybe you could come by my party tomorrow night and I could ask you more about this lovely house's history."

"I'd be honored, the house is lovelier with such a charming tenant." Mycroft smiled, and I kissed Rosie goodbye, giving John a hug. Sherlock was glaring at me, having fixed the lock while his brother charmed me.

"Thank you again for watching Rosie, I am sorry we disrupted your evening."

"No worries," I glanced over at Molly and Anthea, inviting them to stay. As they were already dressed for bed, they agreed. Sherlock stormed out, followed by my cousins. The girls went up to the guest rooms, leaving me with Mycroft.

Alone, I lost every intelligent topic of conversation I had in my mind. He took my hand and kissed it gently.

"Until tomorrow night, Ms. Watson."

"I look forward to seeing you then, Mr. Holmes."


	3. Chapter 3

After the men left, I walked into my office and decided to start outlining my next book. I couldn't sleep, too many thoughts were going through my mind. I'd met Sherlock Holmes and could say he held a gun on me. I'd made a couple of new friends, and of course, Mycroft Holmes had made an appearance.

The cool November rains would soon turn to snow if we were lucky. Christmas without snow didn't seem to have the same magic. I hadn't had anyone to celebrate the holidays with for the past ten years, since my mom had passed. It would be nice to not be so isolated this year.

Part of me was still worried that this was just a dream, and I'd wake up in my old apartment, dreading getting the mail, wondering if he was watching me leave on my daily errands. I told myself part of being a writer was getting a few overzealous fans. One of mine had decided he has the hero in my latest novel, and embarrassingly, he'd cast me in the role of heroine. He asked how I could have written our romance for everyone to see. He asked a few other questions, but I refused to think about that now. His letters always came in plain grey envelopes with no return address.

The letters I'd been getting back in Chicago hadn't found their way to England, and I felt sure that whatever sad fan who had been writing them had moved on to another target. To be honest, I was running away from that, but it's not like it had been more than letters. I'd be fine here. The black car I'd seen was probably just someone heading home. Maybe it had been Mr. and Mrs. Holmes returning from somewhere.

I sat down at the ornate desk near the window. From my vantage point, I could see the gazebo standing still in the darkness. My imagination quickly put an 18th century heroine there, waiting for her partner in espionage. I could see her dark hair naturally highlighted with scarlet tendrils around her face.

A man appeared, he took her into his arms, kissing her breathlessly as she slid the enemy's battle plans into his pocket. His sharp blue eyes and wicked smile made her almost lose focus, but she had a job to do. With one last smirk, he disappeared into the night and she made her way back into the party. Let any observers think she had met with a lover. She knew the plans were safely on their way to her superior. If I was imagining Mycroft as my hero, well, that would be my Reaching over to turn on my desk lamp, I thought I saw movement outside my window, a flash of white. The rain was still coming down, but not as much as earlier, so I hoped Anthea was able to get some sleep. There was probably some kind of animal out there, it would take some time for me to get used to country life.

I wrote out a bit of outline on paper, giving my story a working title that would be changed after I figured out the plot. The Iceman's Lady. I blushed, remembering how Mycroft's lips had felt against my fingers. I wondered why everyone thought he was unreachable and distant. He hadn't seemed that way to me. In fact, he seemed almost mesmerizing, like a cobra. Dangerous and sexy in a way that could prove my undoing.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Molly asked, walking into the room. "Anthea is passed out already."

I jumped, trying to look composed and productive shuffling papers.

"Oh, I do my best writing after midnight. Something about the calmness of the night, I guess." I glanced outside at the gazebo, brilliant blue eyes still in my mind.

Molly sat in one of the elegant chairs opposite my desk and grinned. "It certainly wasn't calm tonight."

"Oh I know, I haven't had a gun pointed at me in years," I laughed. Molly's eyebrow rose and I felt like I was under one of her microscoes.

"I meant the part where you started drooling over Mycroft Holmes." At my look of shock, she giggled. "Why do you think Sherlock was so rude?"

"Because I made him clean his mess?"

"Because you were flirting with Mycroft. The Holmes brothers don't believe in sentiment, so they say."

"Does he think I'm trying to distract his brother from his job or something?"

Molly shrugged, "It's more like he hates when Mycroft acts like a hypocrite. Telling Sherlock not to care, while showing affection out of some warped sense of humor."

"You think it was an act? I guess that makes sense, it has been mentioned that the Holmes brothers aren't romantic. You've said it yourself."

Her eyes had a far away look. "Yes, but I think they are both capable of more. I've had feelings for Sherlock and he had to say he loved me, you know, for his sister."

I nodded, John had explained most of what had happened to me. He probably didn't have permission, but he and I were part of a dwindling Watson family. His sister had her own issues, and I doubted I'd see her often. But John and I were more like siblings than cousins. We had few secrets from each other. I said as much to Molly.

"We were honestly surprised to learn John had an American cousin, he doesn't say much about his family."

"Well, Harry is a bit of a handful, he usually focuses on her. But he's always been there for me."

"I don't really know his sister. I suppose he just never thought she'd be interested in meeting his friends." She glanced at my desk. "Interesting title."

I grabbed the paper and shoved it into my desk, blushing. "It's not a final title, I was just planning an outline."

"Oh, it's fine. He likes you, we can all see it. But he plays the charming prince when he's on a case. Or looking for information from someone. I don't think he's ever been in a real relationship. Maybe you could thaw him out."

"Of course she can," Anthea said, dropping into the other chair near my desk. "He didn't have to bring the boys here, they're more than capable. He wanted to check you out."

"To see if I was capable of watching Rosie?" I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Well, I had to say something. I couldn't just say he was interested in a relationship."

"He doesn't do relationships," I reminded her and she scoffed.

"He's had a few affairs over the years. He may have even liked some of them. That whole 'caring is not an advantage' tripe was never about him. He just didn't want Sherlock getting involved."

Molly rolled her eyes. "As if that would ever happen."

"At least you get to work with the man you love," Anthea froze, realizing what she'd said.

"Oh, does someone have a crush on my cousin?" I asked folding my hands together on the desk, and leaning forward. Molly blinked.

"You like John Watson? Really. How did I miss that?"

"Probably because you are usually too busy trying to pretend you are over Sherlock," Anthea teased. "And I'm not in love with John Watson. I just think he's a puzzle. I happen to enjoy puzzles. And he has asked me out in the past."

"Then why didn't you go out with him?" Molly was giving her an odd look.

"I didn't know him. I didn't think he was my type." She was examining her perfectly manicured nails, speaking with an airy offhand tone. She didn't fool anyone. I'd had enough.

"The three of us are ridiculous, we each are interested in someone, but have no intention of doing anything about it." I shook my head. "We're better than this."

"Hah, you only met yours this evening. You don't have anything to lose," Anthea said. "If Molly and I push too hard, we could ruin unclasped my hands and stood up. "It's a good thing I am here. You two need lessons on man catching."

"Hold on now," Anthea argued. "We've both had successful relationships."

"With the men you want?" I asked, watching them share a look. I slammed my hand down on my desk. "That's what I thought. Let's get some sleep and start planning our attack in the morning." I grinned. "Unless you want the three of us to end up living together in our 80s surrounded by cats."

"I like cats," Molly spoke up. Anthea laughed so hard she started crying.

"Oh we are so getting you a stuck up, obnoxious detective for Christmas," she blurted out. I just smiled.

====Mycroft====Marie====Sherlock====Molly====John====Anthea====

The next day was a work day for me, working on my outline while Molly and Anthea went off to their respective jobs. They had both had made plans to get off work early to get ready for my party, and since we'd already met, I suggested we get ready at my house. We'd drive over together to Angelo's and meet up with the other guests. We exchanged phone numbers, and looked forward to the party.

The postman actually rang my doorbell when he dropped off my mail. I quickly ran to the door to see if anything interesting had arrived. Bringing my pile of letters inside, I flipped through everything. Credit card bill, hmm, can't hide from those, a letter from Mrs. Holmes welcoming me to the gatehouse, and inviting me to tea later in the week. 'My dear Marie, email is so impersonal, and I don't know if you have a cell phone set up for the UK as yet. Please come see me later this week to properly get acquainted. Violet Holmes"

The last letter made me stop smiling and my hands shook. A plain grey envelope. He couldn't have found me here, it had to be something else. I looked and saw there was no return address. I bit back a gasp, and for a moment, felt a feather light hug. Great, now I was imagining things.

I remembered all of the stories I'd read about women ignoring messages like this or not telling anyone only to have their pride make them targets for the villain. That would not be me. I went to dial the police, but realized I didn't have their phone number.

I called Anthea and asked if she could come over sooner. My voice must have sounded odd, because she said she would arrive in ten minutes. I didn't get a chance to ask how she'd be able to reach me so soon, the call being disconnected at some point.

I didn't open the letter, I didn't want to think about what it meant. I stared at it on my table like it could bite me. A few minutes later, Anthea was standing in front of me, shaking me out of my fear.

"Tell me," she said, so I did. How my last book had attracted a fan who wouldn't reveal himself to me. How I'd gone to the Chicago police only to be told there wasn't enough evidence to make an arrest. How I'd felt watched since I'd moved into the gatehouse.

"Does John know?" Anthea asked, her voice gentle.

"N-no," I stammered. "He's been through so much, his wife died, he almost died. I couldn't add to his stress."

"He's going to find out, he and Sherlock always do. Where is it?" I pointed to the letter, She took it and put it in her purse. "I'll have someone look at this, but you're going to have to tell John. Otherwise, this will get really ugly. You don't want those two jumping into this without the facts."

I bit my lip, she was right. I picked up my cell and called my cousin.


End file.
